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Tuesday, February 5, 2013

Mardi Gras Take Two

“Just give it one more shot,” Laurie had said. “I promise you’ll enjoy the Mardi Gras parade
in Mobile.” Char and I had already
survived the one in Pascagoula and I had come away battered and bruised. I had not been impressed. Still, my sister was adamant, so I decided to
give Mardi Gras one more chance.

The parade in Mobile took place on a Sunday afternoon
beginning at the Civic Center and looping around a few blocks in a figure
eight. It was put on by the Order of Pharaohs
and upon our arrival I could already tell it was going to be a different
experience. The day was overcast with a
slight chill, but that didn’t deter me from still getting there an hour
early. If I was going to experience it,
I wanted to feel every minute of it.

As we picked out our spot, I was already impressed with the
way Mobile did things. Lining the curbs
were metal rails prohibiting people from getting into the street. A wise move, I thought, ensuring the safety
of spectator and participant.
Furthermore, police officers also made frequent rounds of the parade
route and were positioned every couple of blocks in the more populated areas to
enforce the rules. Whether it was
because of the police presence or not, the spectators in Mobile were a much
better crowd to be with in order to enjoy the parade. When the parade had actually passed by a lady
tried to bring the New Orleans aspect to the fun and the police were quick to
bring her shirt back down.

Being out-of-towners and new to the whole Mardi Gras
experience, we had several questions.
Fortunately, the people around us were more than eager to indulge our
curiosity with answers. At one point, I
noticed several people with bags of some kind and even a couple of people tying
a sheet to the rail to enlarge their loot catching possibilities. Some had butterfly nets and sticks in order
to scoot treasure that didn’t make it past the barrier to within reach. A friendly couple beside us handed us a
couple of bags. “Trust us. You’ll need it before the parade is
over.” I thanked them, but still held my
skepticism. Why would I want more beads
and moon pies?

The three of us positioned ourselves under a huge oak in
front of a Holiday Inn, not because we needed the shade, but to help keep us
somewhat dry when the rain hit. And it
did hit. It poured. There was neither lightning nor thunder, but
there were buckets of rain that just dumped on the people watching the
parade. Still, no one moved. Come rain
or shine, this parade was going to happen.

About twenty minutes before the parade, a tow truck went up
and down the street towing some poor Toyota.
I was confused because he didn’t do it once, but four or five times.

“Do they have him blocked in?”

The elderly man beside me just shook his head. “No.
The driver parked where he shouldn’t have and they’re just letting him
know they have his car.”

I just laughed as I wondered if the driver was still going
to be able to enjoy the parade knowing what his beads just cost him.

One of the things that impressed me that most about how
Mobile did things was that they gave a special place along the parade route to
those with disabilities. I kept thinking
that in Pascagoula those special people would never have stood a chance.

The most touching scene I witnessed involved a teenager
bound in a wheelchair. His mother had
positioned him right in front of the metal barrier and then tied a sheet to the
rail and his wheelchair. With his
self-made net, he was ready for those riding the floats to throw him all they
could.

Every time I glanced over at him, the rain pouring down his
face, his hair plastered to his head, he was clapping and screaming at the top
of his lungs. “Throw me something,
Mister!” He was having the time of his
life and so was I just watching him.

When the parade finally began, the rain had slowed to a
slight drizzle making it bearable and even enjoyable to watch. The floats were elaborate, each with a Pharaoh
theme. There were temples, pyramids, and
sphinxes, motor cycles and loud costumes.
Those watching stood with arms outstretched as they screamed, “Throw me
something!”

At first I just stood there watching, taking it all in. However, it was impossible for me not to get
caught up in the excitement. Without
even realizing when I joined in the fun, I was stepping on the rail, leaning
over as far as I could, reaching out as far as possible. I was screaming, “Mister, throw me
something!” and raking in the loot. I had about forty sets of beads draped around
my neck, and a bag full of moon pies, plastic cups, doubloons, and other
paraphernalia including green panties.
Char and Laurie had even more. I
was having so much fun that when the last float passed us by, I didn’t want it
to end.

My sister said it didn’t have to be over. The parade would circle back and pass in
front of the Holiday Inn in about twenty minutes or so. I could stand in the drizzling rain and catch
more useless trinkets. Maybe another
pair of panties that Char refused to even consider modeling in. I didn’t need to think about it. I was hooked.

Two years later we took the boys

As we made it around to the opposite side of the Holiday
Inn, the skies opened up again. There
were no trees this time to offer protection, but we didn’t care. Neither did anyone else that was waiting for
another chance for Mardi Gras treasure.
These were hardcore participants and they wanted more. This time around Char caught a huge bag of
beads that had been tossed. It was heavy
enough to spin her 180 degrees and a bag of the trinkets inside that bag flew
off into a young man’s arms. We laughed. We screamed.
We had a blast.

Before we were ready, the Order of Pharaohs had passed us
back by on its way back to the Civic Center.
We waited and did it all one more time.

When it was all over we were exhausted, soaked and sore, but
unlike the parade in Pascagoula this soreness was well earned. We had over 100 Mardi Gras beads, enough moon
pies to last till next year and enough doubloons to buy a Spanish fort. There were, however, no more panties.

At the end of the day, I was sold on Mardi Gras and have
been enjoying it ever since. Ten hours was not a sacrifice to be able to enjoy
the city that had given birth to the celebration. Mobile does Mardi Gras right.

****

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About Robbie

The Mess That Is Me is merely my unique observations that sometimes find themselves hiding in the dark corners of a twisted mind. It is a sampling of what clutters my desk and fills the manila envelopes that find their way to editors In-boxes. If you enjoy what you read, please share the URL.

I live in sunny Florida where I spend my days taxiing the family to various places while jotting down the many crazy thoughts inside my head. I enjoy a freelance career writing for several magazines sharing some of my interesting viewpoints on life and those around me. I can usually be found on my back porch watching the squirrels chittering at the birds while enjoying a cigar, a scotch, and the many characters that talk to me inside my head.

My manuscripts have appeared in religious, parenting and retirement magazines, along with a ghost story or two. I am the author of the short story, Circle of Justice and the novella, Reaping the Harvest, both of which can be found at Smashwords.com, Barnes & Noble, and Amazon. Feel free to visit, strike up a chat and share a story or two with me.